"mcgregor" poems
Well I'm glad you asked.
I'm your next monumental task.
Call me Rufus because I'm about to make your empire crumble.
From my earthquaking hook, it will make the crowds rumble.
Float like a butterfly, hit like Tyson.
I got the strength of the All American Bison.
That left they say is “the kiss of death” please,
you haven't seen a real American breed.
A combo of the world's greatest.
My team is the smartest and latest.
What could you have to possibly show?
I’ll hit you with the jab high and low.
You’re skills of movement and power are ****
**** I can’t wait to make you cry and quit
Feb 13, 2018
Feb 13, 2018 at 9:41 PM UTC
It has been a couple of weeks
since the rigor of being McGregor
boiled down to nothing,
and Mayweather
had an Irma of punches
ricochet off of him.
I recollect this seemingly regular
pre-big-match rumor,
that the game was arranged.
These verdicters
pronounced a loss for Conor.
If so, Mc. man there
took way too many hits for the money.
Now that McGregor is left for dead,
and verily, Floyd
may or may not have added
a few more Lamborghinis
from the Billion bucks prize !!!
Many fortunes have changed.
I've fallen deep down
into this cemetery
where my thoughts lay dead,
and from the abyss sprout up a paradox
that stands for all fortunes:
We all fish in the same waters;
if one stirs a ripple,
driving the fishes away,
another is gifted a school without much labor.
Sep 15, 2017
Sep 15, 2017 at 8:58 PM UTC
A forgotten, almost sacred hole
Lies in the shadow of the bramble knoll,
Into the foggy night we stole,
Down, down into McGregor's Grotto.
We crossed the steadily flowing brook,
With fear and trepidation shook,
And into the gaping maw we looked,
Down, down into McGregor's Grotto.
The icy cavern was eerily sublime
Covered in mud and moss and slime,
Over the scaly rocks we climbed,
Down, down into McGregor's Grotto.
My eye into the darkness strains
When frigid air seeped to our brains,
And blood ceased flowing through our veins,
Down, down in McGregor's Grotto.
Bursting out, we took our flight
Escaping from the horrid fright
Of what we saw that autumn night,
Down, down in McGregor's Grotto.
We swore to never bring to mind
The thought of what was left behind,
Down, down in McGregor's Grotto.
Down, down in McGregor's Grotto.
Jul 6, 2012
Jul 6, 2012 at 4:11 PM UTC
Si può o non può avere sentito un po 'di qualcuno di nome Kelly Clarkson sono sposati lo scorso fine settimana .E il suo matrimonio?Total .TOTALE .Svenire .Le nostre LBBers talento ultra dietro Archetype Studio Inc. ha fatto gli onori di catturare il giorno e stanno dando a noi anatre poco fortunati una sbirciatina a tutti la bella .
e dire la verità .un piccolo sguardo a Tennessee fattoria matrimonio di Kelly è tutto quello che dobbiamo sapere che siamo con tutto il cuore in amore .Non siete d'accordo
?
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Prima di testa fuori nel fine settimana .abbiamo pochi vincitori super speciale !
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E complimenti a Fiona McGregor \u0026Nick Connellan .che hanno vinto una sessione impegno libero da Adrian Tuazon Fotografia !
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Jul 20, 2014
Jul 20, 2014 at 9:24 PM UTC
This slight bird
so oft alone except
in spring when pairs
will flightingly court
in blue-belled woods.
Passerine bird
erithacus rubecula
a thrush-like fly-catcher
diurnal except on
moon-lit nights.
Mr McGregor’s friend
and never to be harmed.
He in winter sings,
she in summer warbles;
both fiercely territorial.
Legend says its breast
was scorchéd red
when fetching water
for those poor souls
dead - in Purgatory.
When the Eternal Christ
was dying on the tree
a robin to his side flew down
and boldly sang to ease
our sweet Saviour’s pain.
And evermore retained
the mark of blood
upon its once-brown breast.
Dec 17, 2016
Dec 17, 2016 at 12:21 PM UTC
You start out carefully
Pouring into a shot glass,
Then the shot glass is
Sloshing over into the
Coffee mug: it's an
Irish Coffee Mug, "Top of the
Clan McGregor Morning, to you."
By 10 AM you're pouring
Right from the bottle,
Into an assortment of
Jelly-juice glasses:
Mimosas Are Us.
You skip brunch & lunch &
By 1:30 PM you're swigging
Directly from the liter bottle,
Wielded like a meat cleaver
In more ways than one.
Oct 8, 2016
Oct 8, 2016 at 2:58 PM UTC
what's the equivalent of the English
slang...
and American version?
rhymes and... for the latter:
acronyms.
i hate American acronyms...
GOP... DNC...
government of power?
democratic national curriculum?
what the fuse?!
now... the Americans spewing
acronyms is worse than
English slang -
because there's a definite meaning
behind it...
i remember the time
when you'd pick up a dictionary,
at a time when people would wear
clothes that had the word, duffer,
printed on them...
duffer: a stupid and an inefficient
person...
ha... people used to wear
said clothes back in high-school
on non-uniform day...
mind you...
you can't exactly have a teen
fest fetish movie surrounding
high-school at the movies...
if, you go, to a catholic school...
and there's a uniform code...
everyone's uniform...
in uniform...
no one competes via
clothing, trends, etc.
that's the closest i came to joining
the army... then again...
i might not have went to a catholic
school...
i might have been under
the jurisdiction of Ignatius of Loyola...
cardinal manifesto
of the black pope:
i.e. Stendhal -
my favorite book in my teens:
and one of the few books...
that i read, being inspired
by a movie...
who was it... Rachel (kel kel Ra-ca-ca-kel)
Weisz and Ewan Mcgregor...
i still can't read anything
by J.R.R. Tolkien...
fun fact...
how can you tell the difference
between
a Hibernian and a Hearts
or a Rangers contra Celtic fan,
i.e. a protestant Pict from a catholic
Pict?
Mc'paddy
(that's catholic)
Mac'george
(that's protestant)...
Glasgow blue (protestant)
Glasgow green (catholic)
Edinburgh green (catholic)
Edinburgh claret (protestant);
savvy? good good.
Nov 12, 2018
Nov 12, 2018 at 11:58 AM UTC
only one cinematic adaptation of a work of literature made me want to read the original script with the exclusion of the narrator... stendhal's the scarlet and black, i traded linkin park's hybrid theory with a friend for a second-hand copy for him to buy it for me near trafalgar sq., no other work i can mention, which i find very odd; starring rachel weisz and ewan mcgregor.
i learned young to read the works of the (g)nostic (g)nomes,
and even though i did that, in order to not meet the bishop
and not be confirmed, i found it hard to find a celebration
and feast day of a saint to meet a cardinal... in any other way
than to meet a cardinal reading alex dumas’ the three muskateers
and the scheming cardinal richelieu (ceelo green /
tim curry a.k.a. frank n’ furter), i guess my chance of
meeting the pope would be reduced to being a baby.
Dec 7, 2015
Dec 7, 2015 at 7:25 PM UTC
Cracks in the foundation -
They don't make 'em like they used to. Chipped concrete, rusted rebar
Fading facade
I make facile arguments
Excuse myself
Blame mental illness
Blame the drugs, the molly years
Blame ****** (I don't choose life)
**** you,
Ian McGregor
Blame the ****** February weather
Blame the itchy sweater
That is life
If that truly is life then,
Become I conscientious objector?
Already live in Canada
Blame the city
Blame the *****
Blame yourself
They say we have agency
I grasp, I reach
But the fruits
Are bitter sweet
**** the bed honey
Like Spud lovely
Which lines do I keep?
And who to throw away?
Feb 24, 2016
Feb 24, 2016 at 8:22 PM UTC
when i asked my best friend to punch me in the face
i was serious.
i knew he never would
but i wanted him to
bless me with a fist,
put knuckles to my skin
and hit me like he meant it.
there’s some crimson catharsis
in watching veins split,
in oxidizing spit,
old penny drip through broken teeth.
metallic sweet,
bleeding
is healing.
im drunk, still drinking
and i want him to hurt me.
not because it’s him
or because i think i deserve it
i won’t remember in the morning
but right now, i need a feeling
i need connection loudly,
want to have every synapse shouting
YOU’RE HERE!!!!
YOU’RE HERE!!!!!!!!
YOU’RE HERE!!!!!!!!!!!!
___________________________________________________________
when i asked my best friend to punch me in the face
i meant it.
two rounds of king’s cup in,
our other friend’s head in the toilet
and cloudy chance surrounding harlem
he slipped on boxing gloves
curled leather around his thumbs,
put his dukes up
and connected with empty air.
“im on my mcgregor ****
tequila drip and ***** spit,
he was laughing.
i wished that i’d been hit.
a quick split lip to remember it
because come morning i wouldn't
recall him walking me to the train
as i zig-zagged in the rain
like it was my first day on brand new legs.
he held an umbrella over my head
his favorite coat was dripping wet, yet
he insisted i needed it more.
“let me know when you make it home”
but it sounded more
like a warning.
time square’s so empty at 2 in the morning.
down 42nd street with keys between knuckles
but i refused to look over my shoulder,
sometimes adrenaline
is adrenaline
is adrenaline.
Apr 29, 2018
Apr 29, 2018 at 7:28 PM UTC
trainspotting in st mary magdalene church 02.09.18
welcome to poetry that's dark
many will have a trip down memory lane
shooting up goes on in every park
even near church st mary magdalene.
look at the spoil
wide spread makes it mega
has everyone got hooked on danny boyle
or maybe the stud ewan mcgregor.
the park has a tremor
infarct its making society ill er
is that going in ewen bremner
with side kick johny lee miller.
having a fix and leaving a skid
really is vile
5 mins and leaving kevin mckidd
not touching any syringe is wise robert carlyle.
no longer looking for a tester
urban poverty and squalor comes naturally
edinbough needs no investor
they are filthy rich culturally.
best film in 2004 ever
is the resemblance knotting
****** trade is very clever
ahead of its time was trainspotting.
Sep 3, 2018
Sep 3, 2018 at 2:08 AM UTC
See the reasons they rhyme
Is bcUze their after your dimes
Stocks savings and other earning
Ha urning made from burning turning
You into a victims
Gambling on the tables
That's long been rigged
Peep the gig they gonna dig
Your subconscious
You gotta look at the picture
Instead of just seeing the picture
They invoking a race war
And more most folks
Don't see them pour
Out the stressing
Then claim it as a blessing
Spiritual testing
Much put to rest and
Too hesitant to think but ya blink .to fast
All you catch is a flAsh
Mentalities blare don't care
Imma keep peeping the game
Leave my enemies stained
End their raid and reign
Wants my mouth drop shot to your brain
We all the same cut the flesh
And we'll bleed the same
Color even though we got different mothers
**** the others
I'm telling you the real don't fall trap to the hand that deals
With the index and the middle finger crossed
Its a hoax so there for it's a joke
So how can we endeavor
Peace
If all eyes is on mayweather and mcgregor?
Aug 26, 2017
Aug 26, 2017 at 12:24 AM UTC